


you cut through all the noise

by dizzyondreams



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: AU: It's Not All Prison, First Kiss, Introspection, M/M, Sharing Clothes, Uncertainty, leon is a FLIRT elliot is stressed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 17:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9668582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzyondreams/pseuds/dizzyondreams
Summary: Why was it only now that Elliot was realising that perhaps something sticky-sweet and affectionate had been growing in him the whole time? This steadily blooming feeling was his very own daemon, the program running in the background of his life, out of his hands and silent, invisible.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is for my good friend ana maria who brought up leon and elliot's height difference and how them sharing clothes would be in the first place. shout out 2 u for this

Sometimes, Elliot wondered if his commitment to his old, faded hoodie was something he really needed to phase out of. It was that trace of stubbornness that Darlene always chewed him out for, his attachment to comfort items and his vaguely calloused attitude towards clothes that kept him in it. But, right now, with the wind and the sheets of rain, Elliot wondered if Darlene might have had _something_ there when she was telling him to buy a fucking coat, Jesus.

He had to meet Leon for lunch. There was no getting around it. To deviate from his routine would be to practically invite Mr. Robot back into his head to yell at him for the next week. He had no choice. So, Elliot pulled his hoodie over his head, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and stepped out into the downpour. His mother didn’t say anything, sitting silent and smoking and watching the news, but he didn’t expect her to. 

It wasn’t too bad, if he removed himself from the feel of clinging cotton and the water dripping down his face. When he was a kid, he used to step out into the rain just to feel it, and he tried to channel that childish enthusiasm as he walked quickly towards the diner he and Leon always ate in. But here he was, pushing thirty and not completely capable of pulling up that childhood freedom of being drenched to the skin that he’d used to feel. He was delusional, for sure, but not _that_ delusional.

The heating in the diner was like a warm bath, and he sank into it with a sigh as he walked through the doors. His hands were so cold in his wet pockets that the shivers were quaking his entire body, and he desperately tried to hide them as he approached the booth he and Leon always shared. The diner was such a familiar place that it didn’t need the quick once-over that Elliot normally gave places, but his eyes still flicked automatically to the other faces in the place as he slid into the booth. The leather creaked under his weight, and Elliot didn’t respond to the low whistle from Leon as he took in the state of him.

“You don’t know what an umbrella is, cuz?” He asked, that familiar drawl to his voice, and Elliot just hunched his shoulders in his soaking wet hoodie. Shivered.

“Guess it hasn’t reached me yet.” He deadpanned, and felt warmth bloom under his breastbone at Leon’s answering laugh. It wasn’t hard to get him to laugh, but Elliot valued every time he managed it anyway. 

“You’re soaked.” Leon said, and leaned across his plate to pluck at the wet sleeve of Elliot’s hoodie. 

Elliot shivered, a long drawn out thing that left his teeth chattering. “Yeah.” He said, like it wasn’t obvious he was dripping all over the vinyl seat. “I’ll dry out.”

Elliot peeled off his wet clothes while Leon recapped last night’s episode of Seinfeld. He was soaked to the skin, and even the sandwich he ordered wasn’t warming him up in any way. Again, he heard Darlene’s phantom admonishments. 

“Might have to go home to change before we head to the court.” He offered, in a lapse in Leon’s one-sided conversation. He shrugged one shoulder, gazing off into the rain beating against the diner windows. “Though, I guess it’s not on. The basketball.”

Leon chuckled, pushing the last of his food around his plate with his fork as he looked up at Elliot through his long eyelashes. “Doubt it.” He said, and Elliot found himself transfixed on the slow spread of his grin. “I’m closer, you wanna head out? We could chill.”

In the back of his mind, Elliot knew the implications. He wasn’t stupid. Socially inept, sure, but he’d noticed the lingering glances Leon threw his way. The invitations back to his place, to watch TV, to smoke up. Elliot always refused, citing his church group, his mother, an early night. It never seemed to deter Leon, and Elliot wasn’t sure whether to take that as flattery or not. No one had been interested in him in a long time, not since Shayla, and he always found himself struck dumb at Leon’s casual flirting. Interpersonal relationships weren’t his strong suit, not at all, but he figured he liked Leon. His smiles, his hands, the way his eyes lit up when he was really into what he was talking about. Elliot couldn’t remember the last time he’d truly been interested in something.

“Sure.” He said, monosyllabic as always, hands clenched deep in the pockets of his soaking wet hoodie. Why not, right? The whole point of moving out of the city was to detach himself from that part of himself, and the old Elliot would never willingly hang out with a guy who seemed so into him. He was solitary by nature, especially after Shayla’s death, but maybe this would be a new him. But, it was a deviation from his routine, and he mused over his as he and Leon headed out to Leon’s car, faces downturned against the rain.

“This time of year is _shitty_.” Leon grumbled, and somehow even that didn’t sound like a complaint from him. Elliot still couldn’t figure out how such a positive guy could even sit down with him for an hour, let alone countless afternoons whiled away in that diner. “Still holding that fact that you think you’re too man for an umbrella against you though, son.” He added, pulling out of the space as Elliot flipped open the vents on the passenger side of the car. Elliot decided that he liked the way he drived, and didn’t say anything. Leon picked back up his one-sided conversation from the diner, somehow content with talking into silence with no pressure for Elliot to reply.

If Elliot had to choose, that was probably his favourite thing about Leon. He talked, and he talked, and if Elliot replied it was a bonus, but whether he did or not Leon was good to fill the silence on his own. No pressure. It eased the ever-present anxiety in Elliot’s chest a little, gave him room to relax into the seat and really listen to what Leon was rambling about.

Leon’s house was a tiny old brownstone about ten minutes from the diner, and he pulled up to the curb without stopping his spiel on Seinfeld, put the car in park as he went in on Constanza and how his idiocy revealed true intelligence. 

“Y’know, it’s a pretty good allegory for how things are going today, huh?” He said, easy like he didn’t expect a response, before throwing the door open and then the two of them were back out in the rain as he fumbled for his keys. “Looks like we’re both gonna need a change of clothes.” He said, and that was when it truly settled into Elliot that he was going to be wearing Leon’s clothes. The thought made him itchy, unsettled, like bugs were crawling over his skin. His hoodie was his safety blanket, and here he was wet down to his underwear, dripping in Leon’s entryway. 

“You live alone?” Elliot asked, as the two of them ascended the rickety staircase to Leon’s apartment. The fluorescent lights overhead were flickery, epileptic, making Elliot feel washed out down to his bones. He watched as Leon unlocked his apartment door, wondered how exactly he managed to look good under the horrible, green light.

“Just me, and my cat, and whoever is crashing on my couch this week.” Leon replied, holding the door open with his shoulder as Elliot stepped through, ducking his head to avoid Leon’s eye. “No company this weekend, though.” The unsaid meaning behind his words hung in the air between them for a second, and Elliot became slowly very aware of his hands, his mouth, his soaked t-shirt clinging to his chest, his stomach. Leon shut the door, shrugged off his own wet coat and held out his hand for Elliot’s hoodie. “I’ll put it in the dryer.” He murmured, leading Elliot through to his bedroom with his wet hoodie in his hands. 

“Where’s the cat?” Elliot asked, bunching his fingers in the hem of his t-shirt as he followed Leon. It was a short trip, Leon’s apartment not much bigger than Elliot’s own. It felt lived in, however. Comfortable, like a home rather than just a place to sleep. Elliot eyed the stacks of DVDs and books that cluttered the small bedroom, eyes jumping to the unmade bed, the art on the walls. 

“She’ll be around somewhere.” Leon said, tossing Elliot’s hoodie in his laundry basket before turning to look at him. “Why, you don’t like ‘em?”

Elliot shrugged, dropping his eyes to the carpet under his wet feet. “Not that. Allergies.”

“I can shut her in the bathroom, if you like.” Leon said, raising his eyebrows as he made for the door. “She’ll be pissed but it’s only because she’s spoilt.”

“No,” Elliot said, quick. “It’s fine. I like pets.”

Leon twisted his fingers in his dreads and grinned as he regarded Elliot, who felt like a spotlight had been very suddenly trained on him. Leon’s big brown eyes, the lazy tilt of his grin, Elliot had to glance away and look back, to take it in in fractions unless he got overwhelmed. “You’re a weird guy, Elliot.” Leon said, finally, then turned to his closet. “Let’s see if we can’t find anything you won’t drown in.”

He tossed a hoodie, some sweatpants, a t-shirt onto the bed, and then as an afterthought a pair of plain black boxers. Elliot would feel himself blushing all the way up to his ears. “Thanks.” He muttered, grateful that Leon had thought to give him a hoodie. He took a seat on the bed, and got to work unlacing his shoes.

“No problem.” Leon said, and when Elliot glanced up he was pulling his wet sweatshirt over his head with a huff. He felt all the blood rush to his face, and glanced away quickly, swallowing hard. Holy shit. Whatever under-the-surface attraction he’d been feeling for Leon these past months was making itself known, and he clenched his fists on his knees as he snuck a glance back. Leon was considering his wardrobe, stripped to the waist like Elliot wasn’t there. God, was he being creepy? Staring at him like that? Elliot mapped the curve of his waist, his flat stomach, the tattoo on his ribs. “Besides, it was my fault you had to step out in it anyways.” Leon continued, oblivious to Elliot’s distraction.

“My fault for not having a coat.” Elliot said, dimly, watching as Leon pulled a thin white t-shirt over his head. His ribs stood out in relief as he stretched his arms up, all wiry muscle and smooth dark skin, and Elliot felt his stomach twist as he watched. He was approaching blue screen of death levels of distress now, the good kind, the kind that made his mouth dry and his heart rate pick up. Full system shutdown. 

“It’d be too weird seeing you not wearing that thing.” Leon said, tossing his wet sweatshirt towards the laundry basket before turning to face Elliot, who was still sat on the bed, sweating it out. He frowned, and Elliot’s heart leapt into his throat. “Oh, yo, you want some privacy?” Leon asked, and Elliot’s apologies died on his lips. “Sorry man, I didn’t think.”

“That’s-” Elliot cleared his throat, looked everywhere but at Leon’s face. “You’re good.”

“I’ll leave you to it.” Leon said with a grin, going for the door. Before he left, he pointed a finger Elliot’s way. “Hey, no charge for the free show, man.” He laughed at the expression on Elliot’s face, and then left, closing the door behind him. Elliot didn’t move, rigid and freezing and staring at the door as his brain whirred, trying to process that. He could hear Leon still chuckling to himself, down the hall. 

The rain beat on the windows, almost drowning out Elliot’s near-silent groan as he leaned forward and put his face into his hands. He let himself picture it one more time, the slant of Leon’s skinny hipbones, the hair on his belly, his chest, before he shut that down for good and started stripping out of his wet clothes. 

His routine made it almost too easy to let everything that wasn’t it fade into background noise. Routine became going through the motions, his mind just occupied enough by what he was doing to not pay attention to everything else outside of it. He tugged his sodden jeans off his legs, and after a moment of hesitation his underwear followed. He tossed them in the basket. How had he managed to ignore his growing attraction towards Leon this whole time? Leon’s flirting certainly filtered through, but why was it only now that Elliot was realising that perhaps something sticky-sweet and affectionate had been growing in him the whole time? This steadily blooming feeling was his very own daemon, the program running in the background of his life, out of his hands and silent, invisible.

Leon’s underwear was loose around his hips, and he gave himself a moment to regard himself in the mirror before he tugged on the sweatpants Leon had left out for him. Too long in the leg, he made do with rolling them up as he desperately tried to ignore the mental image of Leon in the pair of boxers he was now wearing. It didn’t go well, and he had to take a breather for a moment as he willed away any trace of arousal that was fogging him up. 

Leon had worked his way under his skin so easily, so slowly, that Elliot had completely missed it. Like a grain of sand in the circuit board of himself, and now everything was grinding to a halt. He could almost feel Mr Robot’s phantom hand on his shoulder, his voice in his ear. He shook it away, and pulled the hoodie over his head, ignoring the t-shirt. The material was soft, thick, and hung loose on him, the hem stopping at his upper-thigh, cuffs way past his hands. Elliot rolled the sleeves back until his hands stuck out, wondering how he’d never noticed their difference in height before. He stood for a second just hugging himself, warming his skinny body back up. The hoodie smelled good, like laundry detergent, and he pressed his face into the collar for a second as he braced himself to go back out there.

He wanted to kiss him. Elliot pressed his cold hands to his face, breathed out slow. Leon had crawled under his skin and he’d waited and waited for him to realise and now. All it took was breaking his routine. God, what else had he missed while operating under the brainfog of his goddamned routine? He wanted to _kiss_ him. How long had this urge been lying dormant in the back of his mind?

Leon was watching TV when Elliot shuffled out of the bedroom, sitting cross legged on the sofa, a fat orange cat curled up in his lap. Leon laughed as soon as he took in Elliot’s appearance, his overlarge clothes hanging off his body. “Shit,” He said, grinning while Elliot shuffled his weight awkwardly from foot to foot. “I knew you were a small dude, but.” He laughed again, and Elliot felt the corner of his mouth curve into a begrudging smile. Leon’s laugh had always been so infectious. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He muttered, taking a careful seat next to Leon so he didn’t jostle the cat. “So who’s this?”

“This is Snarf.” Leon said proudly, scratching her head. Elliot stared, glancing between the cat and Leon’s face.

“Like... the Thundercat?” He asked, and Leon grinned wider.

“Exactly like it.” He shot Elliot a pleased look when he laughed, and picked Snarf up to her great disgust, judging by the noise she made. “You wanna hold her?”

“Sure.” Elliot said, holding out his arms automatically for the lump of cat that Leon deposited in them. “Yeah.”

“I know it’s a stupid name,” Leon said, eyes cast down as he brushed orange fur off of himself. Elliot held her tiny face in her hands, gave her chin a good rub with his thumb. She closed her eyes slow, less pissed off now she was getting attention again. “But that show was my favourite when I was a kid, man.”

“I liked He-Man.” Elliot said, relaxing back into the couch as Snarf purred in his lap. “And Voltron, I guess.”

“You just wanna save the world, huh?” Leon said, and when Elliot looked over he was watching him petting Snarf, a smile on his lips. Elliot imagined leaning in, skating his fingers over his jaw, kissing that mouth. Touching his fingers to the bare skin of Leon’s hip and having him touch him back. He blushed, turned his attention back to the cat. 

“Doesn’t everyone?” He said, quiet, and Leon made a considering noise.

“Not everyone,” Leon said, and rose from the couch to cross through to the little kitchenette. “You know that. You want coffee?”

Elliot didn’t hear him, staring dumbstruck at his back as he processed what Leon had just said. Was that an implication that he _knew_ about what Elliot did, or was it just an innocent remark? He was getting paranoid again. He didn’t have anything to fear from Leon. He was his friend, he was safe, he took care of him. Nothing to worry about, right?

The line of Leon’s shoulders in that thin cotton t-shirt was something safe, Elliot decided, and he nodded before he realised Leon wasn’t looking at him. “I’d love some.” He said, scratching the cat under her jaw as Leon nodded and clicked the kettle on to boil. He turned around to look at Elliot, braced himself against the stove, and again there was that wave of attraction, and Elliot found he didn’t know what to do with his hands, his eyes. He looked away, trying to find something to break the heavy silence between them. He came up empty: conversation had never been his strong point and it certainly wasn’t under pressure.

“Can I smoke?” He asked, glancing back at Leon for a second. There was something thrilling about the way their eyes met, Elliot’s heart racing in his chest at the simplest thing. The anticipation of the _before_. The build up. He could feel it down to his bones. Elliot had always been too good of a read on people, and he knew very well that Leon hadn’t taken him back here just to get him out of his wet clothes. Or, maybe, that was exactly it, and that was the most of the thrill.

“As long as it’s out the window.” Leon replied, and turned away to reach for some mugs, a jar of instant coffee. 

The window was jammed into the far corner of the kitchenette, and Elliot took a moment to steel himself before he spilled Snarf out of his lap to stand. She looked vaguely disgruntled to be abandoned like that, and followed Elliot as he crossed the room, hopped up on the counter that separated the living room from the kitchen and began to groom herself. Elliot found his cigarettes next to her, with his keys and phone. Leon must’ve taken them out of his hoodie, and Elliot grabbed his phone and stuffed it in the pockets of Leon’s hoodie, not liking the thought of having it out on the top, no matter how much he trusted Leon. 

“Sugar?” Leon asked, and Elliot stared at him for a minute before Leon raised the jar of sugar wordlessly.

“Oh,” Elliot said, glancing away, embarrassed. “Yes. Two.”

Leon grinned as he pressed himself back against the stove to let Elliot by. “What, you think we’re at pet names, now?”

Elliot opened the window a little forcefully at that, and Leon just chuckled. There was the smell of coffee then, the clink of a spoon against the sides of the mug. Elliot leant against the windowsill and lit up, cigarette a little soggy from his trip in the rain but not terrible. The rain was still coming down in sheets outside, and Elliot felt uncharacteristically warm and safe, standing outside of it all. Leon’s apartment was small, cosy, and the smell of coffee made Elliot nostalgic for something he couldn’t name. He relaxed against the sill, blew smoke into the rain outside. Somehow, he felt marginally more at home here than he did at his mother’s house. It lacked the pervasive shroud of dread, anxiety, the sickly anticipation of violence that Elliot had never been able to rid himself of. 

“Here.” Leon said, handing off a big red mug to Elliot, before leaning back against the counter as he watched Elliot take a sip and immediately burn his tongue. “Easy.” He said, the corner of his mouth tipping into a smile. Elliot ducked his head and smiled, balanced the mug on the sill by his knee. 

They lapsed into silence, unfamiliar but not uncomfortable. Elliot liked it. He liked that Leon could hold a one-sided conversation better than Elliot could hold a real one, but he always appreciated when someone could be quiet with him. It eased his anxiety, made him comfortable enough to pluck one of his many racing thoughts and say, “Earlier, when you said about saving the world,” Leon nodded, taking a sip of his coffee as he watched Elliot over the rim of his mug. “Did you mean it?”

“Did I mean that I think you wanna save the world?” Leon asked, and when Elliot nodded, he shrugged lazily. “Sure. You got that look in your eyes, like you wanna do something better, something bigger.”

If only he knew the big, _bad_ things Elliot had done. If he knew, would he still want him like this? Sitting comfortably in his kitchen, in his overlarge clothes, the air thick between them with something loaded, intimate. Elliot didn’t think so. “You’re wrong.” Elliot murmured, and looked out into the rain just to avoid Leon’s eyes. He took a drag off his cigarette, let the silence stretch until he said, “I wanna do just this. Nothing.”

Leon hummed, pensive. “You think this is nothing?” He asked, and when Elliot glanced at him he looked serious, big brown eyes trained on Elliot and looking at him like he meant something. Elliot didn’t know what to do under the weight of that gaze, all the teasing flirting from before hadn’t set him up for this. 

He cleared his throat, flicked his cigarette butt out of the window and grabbed his mug, cradling it against his chest to centre himself. “I don’t.” He said, leaning back against the window frame as Leon set his mug down and stepped closer. A breeze blew through the open window, bringing with it the fresh, clean smell of the rain drenched city. 

Leon took his mug from his unresisting hand, placed it on the counter without looking. His eyes were heavy on Elliot’s own, dark and hypnotising and gentle. Elliot took a deep breath, and then Leon bent down, hand coming to Elliot’s jaw as he exhaled shakily. His lips touched Elliot’s, fingertips dipping into the hollow behind his jaw, and Elliot let him tip his face up, let him kiss him, again and again and again. Slow, lingering, sweet, Elliot felt like his heart was suffocating him, huge and beating hard in his throat. The rain beat hard on the fire escape, the white noise and the press of Leon’s mouth making Elliot feel dreamy, lightheaded. Drunk on it. Leon’s other hand came to cup his jaw, and Elliot sighed into the kiss, safe under the touch of Leon’s big, gentle hands.

His own hands were loose in his lap, drowned in the too-long sleeves of Leon’s big, safe hoodie. He let himself be kissed until he was dazed with it, so much so that he followed Leon’s mouth when he leaned away, and didn’t even feel embarrassed when Leon laughed. His thumbs stroked over Elliot’s cheeks, and when Elliot blinked his eyes open Leon’s gaze was fond on him.

“You’re better than sitting ‘round and doing nothing.” Leon murmured, and Elliot grasped hold of the front of his t-shirt and pulled him close to kiss, sliding his hand to the nape of his neck just to feel his skin under his fingers. 

“It’s enough.” He murmured, and meant it. All that crazy shit in New York, it felt like another world now. And he knew he couldn’t trust himself so much of the time, but this felt like something he needed to grab with both hands and hold onto. He’d tried the whole, ‘saving the world’ thing, and he’d only made the world more awful in the process. Elliot had forgotten that no matter what drastic thing you did, nothing could change the way humans behaved as society, and that was where it all went wrong. Maybe this would be enough, carving himself out a little corner of this shitty world that he could make good. Leon knew he was crazy, he’d seen Elliot in mostly all his various states of distress, but here he was holding him close like he was something worth investing time in.

He’d never hacked Leon. He didn’t know Leon’s deep and darks like he knew everyone else’s, but maybe that’s what made it so good. Hacking people always dug up the worst parts of them, and Elliot was happy to let himself believe that Leon was all he presented to Elliot and nothing more. He’d connected to him as a person, not through a hack, and there was something special in that. He kissed him again, just because he could, because he was a warm body under his hands and it eased the ache of loneliness from his bones like a hot bath.

It had stopped raining. Leon perched on the windowsill and drank his coffee as Elliot smoked, lips and fingertips tingling pleasantly. Their knees touched, and Elliot smiled at the distant city as Leon’s fingers touched his own, thumb tracing over the inside of his wrist like a secret.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading :^)
> 
> lyrics from the anchor by bastille which is REQUIRED elleon listening


End file.
